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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556231">Tea o'clock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Midwinter/pseuds/Clara_Midwinter'>Clara_Midwinter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Post-War, Witty Banter, slow-burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:07:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Midwinter/pseuds/Clara_Midwinter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two best friends meet for five o'clock tea once every week. In retrospect, sipping tea was the least they did. A slow-burn romance. This is a collection of one-shots set in the same 'universe'. </p><p>May contain references to R/Hr and H/G though Harmony is the endgame.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. December 16th 1998</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> December 1998 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was incredible how just a year ago they were living together in a tent, and from then until now they lived impossibly, painfully apart. For many years Harry had been a constant in her life, the kind of friend she had dreamed of having as a lonely child, perhaps the brother she as an only-child deeply craved for the company and the companionship. From the moment he and Ron saved her from that wicked troll their lives became intrinsically woven together, even if the resulting woven basket turned out less perfect than she hoped it would be. The truth was that she missed him and being away from him for months on end was like being away from a vital part of her being. It wouldn’t kill her, but it wasn’t exactly <em> enough </em> either.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It was winter break finally, which meant returning home to the gray and dreary winter of London, just as gray and dreary as the one in Scotland but considerably less cold. Her parents were at home beginning to take the boxes with Christmas decorations and the tree itself from their old attic, while she excused herself to meet her best friend for a nice and soothing cup of five o’clock tea.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>They’d agreed to meet at a muggle café not too far from where she lived, nestled in the colorful and lively neighborhood of Notting Hill. She’d read about this place in the reviews section of her dad’s favorite newspaper. With a hand buried deep into the pocket of her red coat for warmth and the other clutching an umbrella, she caught sight of him through the large shop window. His back was to her but she could recognize the worn, scarlet wool sweater courtesy of Molly Weasley from far away.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She felt her stomach flip and a nervous feeling overtake her body. She stopped for a moment to recapture her breath, shocked in a way because seeing him after so long was almost painful. She swallowed down all of that feeling and pushed the door open, the brass bell ringing as she entered the whimsically decorated café. She closed her umbrella and left it by the door along with several others. A kind-looking waiter greeted her discreetly offering to lead her to a table. She turned to look at the spot where Harry was already waiting for her and she found that his eyes, his impossibly green eyes had already been on her. That nervous feeling came rushing back.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“I-I’m here to meet with him actually,” she explained quietly, pointing towards her best friend.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“In that case…” the waiter placed a well-designed menu in her hands and motioned for her to take her seat. Another customer waved to catch his attention. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” Hermione nodded her thanks, her cold and now clammy hand grasping at the strap of the purse she’d borrowed from her mum.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“‘Mione…” He acknowledged her, a soft smile appearing on his face. She noticed how he didn’t smile all the way and how the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle as they would when he was genuinely happy.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She smiled at him as well, hanging her purse and draping her coat on the back of a third chair next to her. She sat down, attempting to fix her hair because she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands… She didn’t know what came after ‘hello’.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He gazed at her curiously, his fingers playing with a packet of sugar, after a long moment of increasingly awkward silence he scoffed and rolled his eyes at nothing in particular. “Why is it suddenly so difficult to talk?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Relief washed over her as she realized she wasn’t the only one to feel this way. Words had never escaped Hermione Granger but after the war there was little she felt like saying.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“I-I don’t know, Harry…” she felt her breath catch in her throat once she said his name almost as if it tired her. “Perhaps because we seek to avoid talking about the <em> heavy </em> stuff…” He seemed to consider what she said before nodding. “I’m relieved to see you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Relieved? Not happy?” He watched as she rolled her eyes and made that fake-annoyed expression so typical of her. Somehow it made things better, knowing that she was still <em> that </em> Hermione.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“It’s just weird… The two of us tete-a-tete again after all this time. A part of me worried you wouldn’t want to meet, hence the relief.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I want to meet my best friend?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She gazed up at him from under her eyelids, hands otherwise occupied with the menu. “Because you haven’t written your best friend more than two lines at a time in months. Now, I know you’re lazy beyond measure but laziness alone can’t possibly justify half a year of mediocre ‘small-talk equivalent’ contents. ‘<em> Dear Hermione, I hope things are good at your end, I’m quite great myself. Is the weather this time of year at school still miserable? The Weasleys send their love. Yours, Harry.’ </em>” She recited by heart, her annoyance at him showing.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Ah…” He nodded his head, his eyes sparkling in that way that they did when she had something on him and he knew he’d been caught. “Would I sound less like a twat if I explained to you that I was afraid of getting into the <em> heavy </em> stuff?” Hermione sighed heavily.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“I’ve missed you, you bloody wanker.” She crossed her arms over her chest muttering swear words under her breath that even he at close proximity couldn’t make out.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Well, I’ve missed you too, you neurotic witch.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>When she raised her eyes to look at him there was a tender smile on his face, sincere this time and suddenly relief gave way to a rush of happiness she could hardly measure. Hermione sprung out of her chair and caught him by surprise with the tightest and warmest of hugs. The <em> Hermione </em> hugs. The only hugs that really and truly mattered.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Once they parted, not caring one bit that everybody else in the small café could see them Hermione returned to her seat, much lighter than when she first arrived, hell, much lighter than she’d felt in months.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“What if we met every week for tea, Harry? I mean, nevermind studies, significant others, or business, we stop everything to meet for tea once a week to catch up. I mean, good tea, muffins and scones and the company are all less rubbish than your stupid, empty letters, right?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Harry reacted in what she knew was a genuine delight as his cheeks turned a light pink and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That would be perfect, actually. I’ve been meaning to get out of the Burrow more and you’re not that bad on the eyes either, ‘Mione… What have you done about your hair?” He teased, prompting her to swat his arm.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Oh, bugger off you!” He chuckled boyishly.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Not after my <em> actual </em> tea, I won’t.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. December 23rd 1998</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>December 1998</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, dear, we’re having roasted chicken with potatoes for dinner tonight… Are you sure you won’t be joining us?” Molly Weasley asked him as she peaked inside his half-opened door. He noticed how lately she’d been seeming more and more like her old self, having come a long way from the severe depression caused by Fred’s passing during the battle of Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not tonight, Mrs. Weasley. I’m meeting with Hermione for tea to exchange Christmas gifts… She’ll be spending the hols with her family up north.” Molly hummed in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case…” She turned around and accioed something before turning towards Harry again and handing him a bundle wrapped in pink tissue paper, “it’s her Christmas jumper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes widened and his lips formed an ‘o’. He still recalled Hermione’s upset over not receiving one a few years ago following a stupid rumor about them in the newspaper. Molly wasn’t blind to his reaction and her cheeks became nearly as red as her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t very kind back then, was I?” Harry made a face of discomfort and Molly chuckled, shaking her head. “I didn’t understand just how deep the bond between you lot was, Ron included. I reckon I’ve never said this aloud but I find it quite beautiful…” Harry nodded, not knowing well what to say or how to react.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thank you… Has Ron sent any news?” Molly shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll hear from him soon. It was the same when my brothers, bless their souls, got into Auror training. We wouldn’t hear from them for weeks at a time.” She looked around the bedroom that was now just as Harry’s as it was Ron’s and pointed to the few scattered articles of clothing at the foot of the bed, giving him the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll pick it up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, you will!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry watched Hermione enter their regular café in her red coat just as he exited the alley he’d apparated to, gifts under his arm, and wand holstered safely under his dark sweater. He looked around, his instinct to watch out for any threats or dangers something he still wasn’t able to ignore. Confident that there really was nothing amiss, he entered Nightingale’s Café, it’s warmth and delicious smell of tea, coffee, and pastries immediately making him feel relaxed and at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione waved at him and he waved back, heading towards her direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re looking quite cheerful…” She noted, with a twinkle in her dark eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christmas gifts, you know?” He pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s cheek, “this one is from me, and this one’s from Molly Weasley.” Harry handed his best friend the packages before taking his seat across from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione’s eyes widened and her voice was laced with disbelief. “It’s not a hex or a howler is it?” Harry laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll like it.” Hermione handed him the gift box she’d carefully wrapped for him before tearing into the pink tissue paper of the package meant for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When her fingers touched the silky wool of her new sweater, Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. It was periwinkle-blue, her favorite color, and the large ‘H’ in the middle was knit in white thread. It was exquisite and Hermione never imagined she’d feel this happy receiving a sweater from Mrs. Weasley.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you…” Harry teased. “I’ll tell her you  loved it.” Hermione pressed the sweater to her heart and mouthed a ‘thank you’. “Now open the one I got you!” Harry’s voice was full of excitement and to Hermione, it was endearing how utterly happy he’d get on Christmases and birthdays because his early years had been so devoid of that affection and care.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione ceremoniously untied the pink ribbon from his gift box and took off the lid, setting it on the corner of their table. Inside, nestled on top of layers of newspaper and mismatched tissue paper was an old-fashioned camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was sitting in my Aunt Petunia’s attic for years, apparently it belonged to my grandfather.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, do you realize this is a Leica M3? It’s just about the best camera ever!” Harry shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a feeling you’ll have much more use for it. I prefer moving pictures…” He replied nonchalantly, “I suppose I didn’t want it to go from one attic to another attic, you know? It’s supposed to be a good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never mentioned your Evans grandparents before…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I had never heard about them. My aunt isn’t too fond of the past… She told me their names were Henry and Marigold, he was a newspaper reporter and she was a school teacher before getting married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, another flower name!” Harry nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, goes back quite a bit doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have a daughter someday you should give her a flower name too…” Harry chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to ask Nev for ideas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open my gift now.” Her tone came out firm and bossy which prompted Harry to smirk as he gazed up at her, causing Hermione to slightly blush out of embarrassment and roll her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The box wrapped in Father Christmas and reindeer wrapping paper was large and quite heavy. To Harry’s awe and excitement inside was a brand new VHS player with several movies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione!” His voice was pure joy and his eyes were shining, “And it comes with Rocky I to IV, Indiana Jones, Star Wars...” Hermione smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve added ‘Much ado about Nothing’ for good measure, I mean, what a shame to not be familiar with The Bard. And, well, you told me they never let you watch the films you wanted at your aunt’s, I figured… You’ll have to get yourself a telly now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re bloody brilliant, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled and made a show of brushing both her shoulders with that stuck-up look of hers. “Oh, I know I am!” Hermione cleaned up the small mess of wrapping paper they made and signaled for a waiter to come. “How about some tea right about now?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. February 6th 1999</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>February 1999</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Hermione, I finally found a house. I reckon you’d like how close it is to Highgate cemetery with all those trees, gothic tombstones, and whatnot. I’m also just six doors down from the library, so I can tell it would be your sort of place. Don’t give me shite for wanting to live near a cemetery. I've had enough of Ron’s nagging already. See you tomorrow at tea. Yours, Harry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘He’s improved’</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Hermione’s first thought as she shook her head at his letter, counting five lines instead of two. The corners of her mouth curved upward ever-so-slightly as she sat surrounded by fellow Gryffindors in the great hall. Dinner time was nearly over and she could feel Ginny Weasley’s anxious gaze practically burn into her. She refrained from rolling her eyes at the younger witch.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s found a place,” Hermione announced to their little group only. It consisted of herself, Ginny, Neville, Parvati, and surprisingly Luna Lovegood who often joined them at their table now that the restraints of houses had been loosened after the battle. “Oddly enough in Highgate… I don’t know, I expected him to want someplace more exciting like Soho or Notting Hill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t Notting Hill where your family is?” Neville asked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite but a short walk really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Highgate not a good place to live?” Ginny added.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not bad at all, just more quiet and family-oriented, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny’s eyes took on a different sort of shine upon hearing the bit of news. Hermione noticed Neville shift uncomfortably in his seat beside her. She sighed deeply. What a burden it sometimes was to be the guardian of his deepest, innermost secret: his long-time crush for the fiery redhead.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you really visiting your parents tomorrow?” Parvati asked her, feeling the need to shift the subject away from Harry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione had never thought much of the girl. She now recognized how she’d judged Parvati and the late Lavender sometimes quite cruelly. To Hermione, the girls were silly and superficial just because their interests were so different from her own. Now, however, Parvati having lost Lavender to the war, something had changed in her, she’d hardened somehow… Grown-up. In reality, they all had.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, yeah. Will be back Sunday evening.” Parvati nodded, picking at the last bits of her veggie pie. “Is there anything you lot would like me to bring back, I might go to the market with Mum…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was technically a Hogsmeade weekend but one of the perks of being a heroine of war was being permitted to apparate to and fro at one’s discretion. It had been the single thing Hermione had requested of the newly-minted Minister of Magic and Headmistress McGonagall once the school had reopened. They’d made a big fuss over her return to Hogwarts in order to inspire the other older students who’d been participants in the battle to do the same. Hermione’s entire reasoning had been that she’d lost her parents once before and it had shattered her heart like nothing else ever had, the least they could do to compensate was allow her to travel freely to be with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Weekends at home with her mum and dad were the least she could do to try and put back the pieces of their slowly-mending relationship but it was also for the sake of Hermione’s own sanity. She lived for the comforts of peanut-flavored M&amp;Ms, a good, greasy cheeseburger with chips and Coke, riding her bike through the Kensington gardens, toast with marmite, going to the theater, and visiting museums with her parents. It did wonders to calm and distract her mind and soul from all of the horrors she had been witness to.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, Hermione might have ambitioned the Head Girl position or something of the sort but now all she wanted was the chance to live her life as she pleased, to have the freedom to be what she’d always been: both a witch and a muggle. She desperately depended on that freedom to heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you could please bring packets of curry powder and cumin… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that copy of Jane Eyre you mentioned…” Parvati replied with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could do with some crisps!” Luna added in with a smile. “Not only do they taste good but the crunchy sound is very soothing to our Buckbeak… Perhaps it reminds him of his mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” Hermione replied to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Hermione turned to junk food and muggle London to get through each week, Luna turned to potato crisps and assisting Hagrid with his creatures while Parvati turned to women’s literature and her mother’s old Indian recipe book to get by. The house-elves and McGonagall alike had learned to turn a blind eye to her nightly forays into the castle kitchens and Luna’s flying on Buckbeak over the castle grounds during particularly difficult days. Anything to keep their wounded soldiers in the path of healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re late.” Harry declared as soon as she arrived to meet him at this week’s café, one that was conveniently located less than a block from his new dwellings.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes at him and bent over to press a quick peck on his cheek before plopping down on her seat. Her hair was terribly frizzy today due to the humid winter weather and it wasn’t her fault he’d decided to live in faraway Chester road of all places.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took me nearly an hour to get here, bloody buses. Be thankful I made it! It’s an absolute nightmare out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you’re cross.” He teased, handing her the menu. “I’m having a fancy coffee today, one of those huge monstrosities with whipped cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, have you decided?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what, Harry, your career! Last time we met you were going on about receiving invitations for professional Quidditch and that Kingsley was trying to convince you to join the Auror Academy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No decisions as of yet. You? That Arithmancy apprenticeship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking into university, actually.” Harry hadn’t the time to muster a reply worthy of his eye-widening surprise as his frappuccino arrived at the hand of a bubbly waitress.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to order, miss?” She asked Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“A chicken and cream cheese crepe please, plus cucumber and ham and cheese finger sandwiches. Black coffee would be nice, with no sugar… A regular coke too and if you could also bring me some apple pie with plenty of cinnamon for dessert please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked positively stunned. Hermione had revealed herself an eater lately but the extent of her order would be considered too much even for Ron.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, are you feeding a small army or something? Are you a baby dragon?” He questioned as soon as the waitress turned around and left</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry! And don’t look at me like that, Merlin knows you always steal my food. I always have to order double now because you can’t bother ordering your own.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled out of sheer amusement at her expense, finding it funny just how defensive she got. “Keep going like that and soon you’ll be your very own version of the Fat Lady!” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione crossed her arms against her chest and clucked her tongue in faux-distaste before returning to the subject of their futures. “I’m thinking of pursuing a degree in History at Oxford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always talked about Oxford. It was where you expected to go were it not for you being a </span>
  <em>
    <span>you-know-what</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He said, whispering the last bit for the Statute of Secrecy’s sake. “Why the sudden interest in it again? I thought politics and social causes were your things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> my things, always have been, since S.P.E.W…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spew.” He mocked with that stupid smirk of his. She stuck her tongue out at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“History is comfortable, and it makes me happy even if a lot of it is maddening. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, it feels like home, like something I would enjoy doing for the rest of my life. The smell of dusty books and ancient papyri, the Latin and Old English manuscripts, the magnificence of castles, fortresses, hidden tombs… Researching, writing, diving into the mystery of an ancient artifact. I want that Harry. Right now, living with that past, it’s a lot better than living in the present and having to face </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of her little defense speech Hermione was breathless and Harry’s eyes seemed to burn right through her.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that you’re tired and fed up, trust me, I know the feeling. I moved to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Highgate</span>
  </em>
  <span> for crying out loud. I just want you to be happy, ‘Mione, Merlin knows you deserve it. If History is your passion I’ll be the first to give you a fedora hat and a whip.” Hermione just about guffawed at his comment, unable to control the bright crimson that invaded her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s been watching his muggle movies!” Harry beamed at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to check out my new telly after tea?” She nodded, finding his excitement contagious, “it’s the largest I could fit in the parlour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall choose the movie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as it’s not something from Jane Austen…” She rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heavens no! Jane Austen’s for watching with my mum!” Hermione reached out for her bag and pulled out some VHS tapes. “We’re watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Fargo’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Pulp Fiction’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and oh my goodness, Harry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Thelma &amp; Louise’</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those better be good!” he told her with that wicked grin in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Hermione was about to serve him with an equally sassy remark all of their food arrived.</span>
</p><p> </p>
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